


Chocolate Chip Pancakes

by jensennjared



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Human, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 19:36:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5346095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jensennjared/pseuds/jensennjared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An ordinary day in the Winchester household; Dean wakes his daughter, Grace, and takes her to school. But something's not quite right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate Chip Pancakes

“Good morning, Grace.” The door opened, and Dean wandered in, rubbing tiredness out of his eyes. He could hear his daughter breathing, the duvet pulled right up over her face, shielding her from the cold air. Treading over to the curtains, he pulled them open, allowing a sliver of sunlight to fall into the room. He sat down on the edge of her bed, barely making an imprint in the mattress, and reached out to stroke her hair. His touch was enough to wake her, cool and fresh against her skin. Her eyelids fluttered open and she smiled, happy to see her father’s face in the early morning light.

“Daddy,” she said, before reaching up and wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Grace,” he said her name with tenderness. “Ready for your first day back? I know you’re gonna do great.” He offered her a warm smile.

“Yes, ready! I can’t wait to see Mrs. Miles.”

“I’m sure she can’t wait to see you either.” Nodding, he pushed himself to his feet. “Let’s get you dressed, huh?” Dean glanced over to the sideboard to find that Grace’s uniform had been washed, pressed and laid out neatly.

Castiel was always efficient; he always had a plan. Grace had been his idea. They’d talked about kids a few times, on and off, and although Dean had known he’d make a good dad, he had never truly thought it would happen. Nature had been against them. It had taken them two years to find the right surrogate, and a further year and a half to successfully conceive, but they didn’t lose hope. Castiel reminded Dean constantly that it was by the very Grace of God that they had a child, and before she was born, Dean offered the name, Grace, knowing that nothing would fit her better. With their daughter in tow, they ran head long into normalcy, finally a complete family.

“Will you help me? Can you brush my hair?” Grace asked, stepping forward, closer to her father.

“Come on princess, you’re a big girl now.” Dean bent down at the knees, meeting his daughter’s eye line. “I know — why don’t you get dressed all on your own, and show Dad? He’ll be super impressed and let you have chocolate chips on your pancakes. Sounds like a good deal to me.” Dean adopted an enthusiastic tone, inciting a challenge that never failed to win Grace over. She was a competitive little thing — just like her Daddy.

Grace was baited. She jumped out of bed, throwing her pyjamas onto the floor in a hurry. Grappling with her polo shirt, she yanked it over her head, her hair exploding through the top in a cloud of golden ringlets. Dean smiled at how different she was to him — so hopeful and holy — a promise to the world of a better future. He believed her a miracle, an excess of sunlight and stardust compressed into one tiny human. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have sworn her an angel.

In a matter of minutes, she was dressed, standing tall and triumphant by her bedroom door. “I’m ready, Daddy.” She stated, flashing Dean a toothy grin.

“Good job — you look pretty smart, sweetheart.” He stepped forward, laying a hand on her shoulder and squeezing to confirm his statement.

“Pancakes, now?” She asked, eyes wide and bright blue, her beauty ethereal.

“Sure,” Dean nodded. She whipped around, grabbing the door knob, poised to shoot downstairs. “Uh, Grace, wait a sec. You forgot your necklace. Don’t you wanna wear it to school?” Grace turned around, a concerned frown framing her features.

“But what if I lose it?”

“Nah, you won’t. It’ll stay on, I promise.” He watched as Grace headed back to the dresser. Her fingers closed around a simple, black twine necklace. Raising it aloft, she pulled it down over her head, tightening the clasp at the back. The amulet — a brass head with bull horns — dangled from the chain, resting in the centre of Grace’s chest. It had once belonged to Dean. He’d had the amulet for most of his life, a gift from his brother, that he wore every day. As a baby, Grace would wrap her fingers around the chain and hold on to it as she fell asleep. It seemed to belong to her, and four months ago, Dean had gifted it to her. “Perfect. Let’s get some breakfast, okay?”

Grace bolted out of the door, enticed by the smell of sugar and lemon drifting up from the kitchen. Dean followed her down. It was a beautiful day outside; the sun was warm and welcoming, a cloudless sky overheard. Dean could perceive the heat warming his very bones.

“Good morning, honey.” Castiel said as Grace rounded the corner to the kitchen. He had already laid the table with sufficient helpings of pancakes, maple syrup and — to Grace’s delight — chocolate chips. Turning off the burner, Castiel dropped the frying pan in the sink, and scooped his daughter up into his arms. “Look at you! All dressed and ready to go, and all by yourself too?”

“Well, Daddy helped.”

“I’m sure he did, Grace.” Castiel pressed a light kiss to Grace’s cheek, before lowering her into her seat.

“Daddy said I could have chocolate chips as I’m a big girl now.”

“Daddy’s right. Chocolate chips for all.” Castiel said as he sprinkled chips onto Grace’s plate. “Eat up, my sweet bumblebee. You’ve got a big day ahead.”

Castiel returned to the counter, and busied himself cleaning up the mess he’d made. Running the hot water, Castiel reached for the sponge before scrubbing viciously at the stubborn grease on the pan. Behind him, Dean watched Grace spoon sickly sweet mouthfuls of pancake into her mouth. Her mood was at odds with Castiel, and Dean wondered if his husband had slept badly. Castiel had been having bad dreams lately; he tossed and turned all night, and often awoke in tears. Dean watched him constantly, whispering words of love and encouragement, but nothing seemed to change.

Suddenly, the pan clattered to the floor.

“Damn it,” Castiel sighed, bracing himself against the sink, ignoring the sudden desire to cry.

“Cas, just leave it. I’ll get it later, okay?” Dean urged. Castiel didn’t move. Dean stood up. Walking over to his husband’s side, he laid a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and squeezed. “You’re wasting away. You need to eat something.” Concern was heavy in Dean’s tone. All he wanted to do was absolve Castiel of whatever was ailing him; they were married — it was only right to share the burden.

“Dad, you can have one of my pancakes, if you want?”

“See, even our kid’s willing to share.” Dean smiled to see the soft curve of Castiel’s lips.

“Okay, honey, but I won’t have too much.” Castiel moved back to the table, opening his mouth wide as Grace dropped a sliver of pancake onto his tongue. “Mmm, that’s delicious. It’s the perfect amount of chocolate — the golden ratio.” Castiel chewed, his hunger numbed for the time being.

“Right — time to go.” Dean said, clapping his hands together. Castiel jumped at the sound. “Cas, cool it. When we get back, you’re gonna hit the hay. Seriously, baby, you need sleep.”

“Grace, run upstairs and brush your teeth, please.” Castiel leaned across the table with an outstretched finger and wiped at the brown smears around Grace’s mouth. “You may want to wash your face too.” He grinned.

“Okay, I’ll be quick.” Grace darted up the stairs — she didn’t go anywhere slowly. She was a bundle of energy, a coiled spring, bounding around the house and keeping her parents busy. Dean watched her go, allowing himself a brief moment of pride. She was the best thing they had ever done — a credit to them both. She banged about upstairs, opening and closing cupboards, turning the water on and off, before racing back down the stairs with clean cheeks and shining pearly whites. “Done! We can go now.”

“We sure can.” Castiel agreed, following his daughter out into the hallway.

“Don’t forget the keys, Cas.” Dean called, already outside, heading towards the car. Sure enough, Castiel grabbed the keys from the hook and unlocked the car. They all bundled in, and Castiel started the engine. The old chevy, Dean’s pride and joy, rumbled to life with enthusiasm. Castiel wasn’t fond of the car— it was too cumbersome and heavy on the steering — but it belonged to Dean, and that was the most important thing.

“Are you excited for your first day?” Castiel adjusted the rear-view mirror, fiddling with the position until he could see his daughter in the reflection. She smiled, noting the similarity of her father’s eyes to her own.

“Yes! I’m so excited. It will be a good day.” Grace nodded, glancing over at Dean, who was occupying the seat next to hers. “Daddy’s coming too. He told me so.”

“Yes, of course.” Castiel’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “He’ll be right by your side. Always.”

“You better believe it, sweetheart.” Dean said, poking the very tip of Grace’s nose with his index finger.

As they turned a corner, light flashed in the mirror, reflecting off of the amulet strung around Grace’s neck. Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “You’re wearing Daddy’s necklace? Where did you get that?”

“Yes, he said I could have it. He said it was for me.” Grace said, oblivious as any child would be to the true sentiment of the trinket.

“It is yours, Grace. Dad is just jealous — wants it for himself, I bet.” Dean laughed and Grace smiled.

“Honey, I don’t think you should be wearing it to school.” Castiel warned, his eyes once again, staring into the rearview mirror.

“It’s fine, Cas. Calm down — and keep your eyes on the road.” Dean said, leaning forward in his chair, his fingers pressing into the fabric.

“But Daddy wants me to wear it.” Grace said, her voice wavering, tears imminent. Her fingers clutched the twine, cupping the amulet in the palm of her small, childish hand.

“I know he does, but it’s very precious, Grace. I wouldn’t want you losing it.”

“Just let her wear the damn necklace!” Dean snapped. A loud bang shuddered through the car. Castiel slammed on the brakes, forcing the car to a sudden stop. Grace whimpered, fear coursing through her body.

“Grace — Grace, it’s fine. Just a — a problem with the tail light. Calm down. Everything’s fine.” Castiel mumbled, his words jumbling up from shock. He turned around in his seat, staring straight through Dean with despair, and allowing his eyes to soften for Grace. “Are you okay?”

“She’s fine. Aren’t you, princess? Nothing to worry about. Dad just doesn’t know how to drive.” Dean offered Grace his hand, and she held it, taking comfort in the softness of his skin. “Get a move on Cas, we’re gonna be late.”

The rest of the journey was fraught with tension; the atmosphere in the car, cold and chilling. Castiel could see clouds billow from his mouth with every breath. The radio refused to work, scanning through the channels and crackling after a few bars of every song. Dean told himself it was the car’s way of giving up — they needed to inter it in the garage and buy a newer model. It was old and unreliable now, no use in prolonging the inevitable.

At the school, Dean kissed Grace on the forehead before ruffling her hair.

“You have a good day, okay? Listen to Mrs. Miles and — and tell Libby all about Disneyland. Don’t forget to eat all your lunch too. It’s peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Uncle Sam’s favourite.” Dean smiled and Grace stared up at him with all the love her sweet face could muster.

“I promise, Daddy.” She nodded, before turning her attention to Castiel.

“I’m sorry about earlier, honey. I’m just — tired, and I let myself get mad. I’ll stop being so grumpy and we can go to the park after school. Would you like that?” Castiel asked, kneeling in front of his daughter.

“Yes, that’ll be great, Dad.” Grace said, unable to stay upset with her father for too long. Stepping forward into Castiel’s arms, she squeezed him tightly, kissing him on the cheek as she released. Reaching for his hand, she unfurled his fingers and placed Dean’s necklace in his palm. “Daddy will make you feel better.” She smiled, knowingly, and ran off down the driveway and into school.

They traveled back to the house in silence. Dean opened his mouth a fair few times, trying to find the right words to soothe his husband. Castiel focused on the road; he watched cars whizz past them and paid special attention to the pedestrians crossing the street. He wondered after their lives, their strife, their loss. Castiel parked the car on the drive, and jumped out, desperate to be back inside their house, secluded and safe.

As soon as the door closed, Castiel felt the overwhelming tidal wave of grief rise over him. His shoulders sobbed, shaking under the tremendous weight of four months worth of holding it together. Dean watched on as if watching a film — a spectator to the sadness that didn’t involve him, but revolved around him. He wasn’t included and it made him angry.

“Talk to me, Cas!”

Sparks of electricity and shards of glass rained down on them as the light fittings above exploded. Still Castiel cried. Picture frames vibrated on the walls, flying off and crashing on to the floor. Still Castiel cried. The entire house began to hum, to groan, as the very walls shook. Still Castiel cried.

“Castiel!” Dean screamed, rushing forward and pushing his husband with all the force he could summon. Castiel staggered back.

“Enough, Dean.” Castiel commanded. “Enough!” He repeated, this time louder. He squeezed his eyes shut and balled his hands into fists, the sharp horns of the amulet piercing his skin. When he opened his eyes, he gasped.

Dean was there. Dean was stood in the hallway — feet shoulder width apart, face weary and tired. He managed a smile.

“You can’t be here anymore, Dean.” Castiel said. Dean walked away, seeking shelter in the living room, ignoring Castiel’s wishes. “Dean, this has got to stop. Grace can’t take much more of this, and frankly, neither can I. It’s too painful.”

“What’s too painful, Cas? I’ve been trying to get it out of you for the longest time.” Dean rounded, stalking forward. He’d spent four months waiting for Castiel to see him, and now that he could, Dean wanted to be invisible again. “You’ve been ignoring me. Crying at night — you think I don’t know? Think I can’t hear? So what is it, huh? You don’t wanna be with me anymore? You wanna just — just throw this,” Dean gestured to the room, throwing his arms out wide, “all of this, everything we worked for, away?” He was panting now.

“Dean, please,” Castiel implored.

“No, Cas, I wanna know. Why are you acting like this? I’m real — I’m yours. We’ve gotta — gotta talk about this kinda stuff.”

“Dean, how can you — how can you not remember?” Castiel dropped to the couch, head in his hands. Dean moved to his side, taking the seat next to him.

“Whatever it is — y’know, whoever it is — we can work through it.”

“I, I told you before. It hasn’t been that long.” Castiel whispered to himself, shaking his head, rubbing his neck, before meeting Dean’s gaze. “Dean, listen to me, please.” Dean nodded, trust implicit. “You died — four months ago.”


End file.
